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Near to my Heart

Stylized view of Corpus
One thing I may never get used to as I age is how time seems to warp. In school, a year took forever. Now they fly past like the clouds in the windows outside my seat at 34,000 feet. When I was a boy and I got to fly down to Corpus Christi, I pretended the clouds were giant space ships and my shuttle craft was dodging around the armada amassed in the nearby star system. I’ve always had an active imagination, and I always loved flying to South Texas.
The last time I flew to Corpus Christi was in 1990. That is when we moved my grandmother to Dallas. Corpus is so full of rich, wonderful memories- walking to the corner grocery store with my grandfather, holding his hand, which to do so, my arm raised up to meet his. The cicadas sang in the trees, leaving their brown shells on the swing set, in the bushes, and even on the side of the house. I would help my grandparents in the garden behind the garage, its bounty would become fried okra, boiled greens, green beans and potatoes- side dishes to the best home-fried chicken and skillet corn bread made with bacon grease. It was always amazing how they could gather so many vegetables for all of us.
My parents were married in Corpus. I love viewing the old photos, seeing my mom’s family there in Corpus, all so young, along with my dad’s family, who had all grown up in that house. There were so few times the two families were together. I loved how the back yard was always the prime backdrop for family photos. I remember my grandmother telling me how, when they moved into this house when it was new, across the street was farm land.
My childhood trips to Corpus with my cousin were the best. She and I would play restaurant in the back yard, or bus company in the dining room. Sometimes, I took the bus to and from Houston, so I had a fondness for Trailway’s buses. As I got older, I would fly down. It used to be so inexpensive that I could buy my own tickets from what I’d saved from my allowance.
Departing Corpus in the early morning
When I saw that I had a Corpus layover in my line for the month, I had to call my Aunt to find out when it was that Memaw moved to Dallas. We struggled, but finally determined that she moved to Dallas just in time for her 80thbirthday. Subtracting when she died, we determined that she moved in 1990, and this where the time warp freaks me out.
It’s been twenty-eight years since I was in Corpus. I was twenty-three then. There have been more years that I’ve been away from Corpus than when I went to visit my grandparents. It just doesn’t seem possible. Was it that long ago I was in the rear-facing seat of their huge land yacht, also known as a station wagon, with my cousin, waving at motorists behind us, while listening to the Police sing ‘Every Breath you Take’ on the radio? Was it that long ago we’d drive to Mustang island to swim in the surf and languish as I’d look back to see my grandfather waving me back in, fearing I was out too far in the surf? Was it that long ago we’d come in from the back yard, back full of sweat, to hear the string of bells hanging on the door sill chime as the door closed, as our eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, the way it was kept, in order to keep the heat at bay as the window air conditioning units strummed in unison? Was it all that long ago?
It’s nice that these memories still keep me company and have me longing for the more simpler times, when Memaw would brush my hair, my grandfather would teach me how to play dominoes, and we’d drive to the T-heads to go fishing. When I feel old, I think my cousin, Leslie, and how we would have so much fun together.
Penguin on the T-head
Corpus Christi is near and dear to my heart. I’ve always loved the city by the bay and that iconic bridge over the ship channel. After Pa died and Memaw moved to Dallas, I no longer had a reason to visit. I’ve missed it terribly. The house my grandparents bought across from the farm lands, which soon became homes, where we’d wash off in the back yard from the garden hose after returning from the beach. The same yard where we’d hide Easter eggs in the bushes (one year, finding an egg overlooked from the year prior!) is still there- its trees taller. That old house is just how I remember it, still white with green shudders, just as they left it only, it’s not in as good a shape and is showing its age.
Shrimp boat
I have another trip to Corpus in a few weeks. I hope I can get back many more times. It’s such a bitter-sweet trip. I didn’t realize that on the ride to our hotel we’d pass the old bank building where Memaw used to work and would love showing me off to her friends. I saw it as we buzzed past on the freeway, pointing it out to my crew, “Oh, that’s the building where my grandmother used to work.” Of course, the bank has changed names.
The lump in my throat nearly brought a tear to my eye as I could see my grandparents, with their white hair and smiles, looking down on me standing in the back yard in the shade of the trees planted when my father and his siblings were infants. And those bells that hung on the door sill that rang as the door opened or closed, now hang on the sill of the door in my own home. We may leave the past, but the past never fully leaves us. I’m just fortunate to have such a rich and happy past that I bring along with me. A past that is still very much alive in Corpus Christi.

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Adventures in Life: The Apartment

Apartment #1 on bottom left, this was the front door.

I love going back in time. It’s not so hard to do when you live in your home town. Every few years I enjoy driving back through my old neighborhood and seeing how things have changed. The U-Totem convenience store is gone, along with the old washateria next to it. It’s now a bright, shiny new home store. The old GM dealership on the corner is a beauty supply mega-store. The old House of Pies is still there, and then there is the apartment.
The old House of Pies on Kirby Dr., a Houston institution
The apartment I have the most memories of- some of the first and most impressionable memories of my childhood- is on the borders of the artsy Montrose and the affluent River Oaks section of Houston. This is the apartment were I went to kindergarten; I still remember Mom taking pictures of me and my friend, Dallas, on the day I started first grade. Wow, I had a friend named Dallas! In the alley behind the apartment is where I learned to ride a bike…my first bike, a Christmas gift, as was my first Lego set.
 
This is where I learned to ride a bike and I played in that very puddle of water!
This was the apartment where I lost my first pet dog in a battle with a car on nearby Kirby Dr. This is the apartment of my first pet cats, who had kittens in the living room. This is the apartment where I first noticed airplanes in the sky, where I played with Yvette in the bushes under my window, where I admired all the Halloween candy from the mansions a few blocks away, where I played in puddles after a rain and where, one day, I got in trouble for throwing rocks at passing cars. I was four…I had no idea that was bad. But I learned!
Mom was young and struggling after her divorce to a man who turned out to be a selfish, egotistical piece of work. When her struggle became too much, she would walk me onto an airplane and send me to my grandparents. This is the reason I’m so close to my family, and Mom’s independence and ability to overcome her struggles was passed on to me.
For years I’ve driven by this apartment and watched as it got new paint jobs, new flowers in the yard, new curtains in the windows. Eventually, some of the neighboring apartments were torn down and up went shopping strips of furniture and children’s toy stores. Then today, some 44 years after I lived there, as I drove back in time, my old apartment itself has been turned into a store! It’s now an annex of the very store that overtook the neighboring buildings.
These door used to the our covered parking space.
I had planned to park and take some photos, afraid that one day soon, I’d drive by and it would be gone. But I guess that apartment had good bones, for there it was, just as I remembered it, except that the front yard was now paved for cars to park and people shopped for home goods in the place where all my oldest memories were formed. If they only knew! I went inside; something I’d longed to do for oh, so many years.
I walked into what used to be my living room. I could still see the Christmas tree and remember asking Mom how Santa was going to enter without our having a chimney. She told me he had magic keys and would walk in the front door, which was now blocked by a table showing off fancy plates and glassware. This was the room where I discovered Batman on TV, would first watch The Wizard of Oz and laugh at the antics of The Three Stooges before leaving for school (the Montessori school I attended is still there). This was the room my father got into an argument with a man my mother was dating. It made me cry, as it was the first time I realized that my father was flawed.
It was in this corner Mom had our Christmas tree.
As I walked to where my bedroom used to be, I could see where the window was, now blocked by a shelf full of stemware. The space between our apartment and the building next to it has been connected, so instead of the large bushes just outside are now candles and fancy candle holders. That window was home to the air conditioner, that beautiful machine. I loved the sound it made, lulling me to sleep and the cold breeze it provided on sultry Texas nights.
The window of my bedroom used to have a large bush.
Suddenly, I realized that I was standing in the place where, each night, I would lie my head and fall into dream land. The glasses on the shelves blurred through the tears forming in my eyes. I could still see the walls that were now gone, and the posters I had hanging over my bed; see the hole in the ceiling of the bathroom that fell in after the upstairs flooded. (I was able see the upstairs neighbor’s tub when that happened!)
You can see where the walls were. Upper right was the corner of my bedroom; left was the kitchen.
To my right was where my Mom’s room was. I could still see her teasing her hair in front of the mirror in the corner. Beyond her room was the small 1-car covered parking space. And behind me was where our kitchen used to be, the same kitchen Mom worked so hard on to paint…yellow and orange, if I remember correctly. She was such an artistic rebel!
Standing in Mom’s bedroom, the kitchen was on the left and my room was behind that column.
From the living room looking to the back of the apartment.
Now, it was all a huge showroom for Kuhl-Linscomb, a top-end design and lifestyle store. The hardwood floors were now stained concrete, but one can still see where the walls used to be. So many memories from 44 years ago came flooding back as I looked around. This is where I learned to tie my shoes. This is where I watched Carol Burnett. This is where Mom cut her wrist on broken glass and I remembered how badly I felt for her while she cried as we drove to the hospital. This is where I lived when I first went to Astroworld (gone), first went ice skating at the Galleria, first ate wonderful greasy burgers at the Purple Cow down the street from Arthur Treacher’s Fish and Chips (both gone). 
Where the bathroom used to be. You can see the hole in front of the column where the toilet was.
The thrill I had in riding my bike up the parking garage of the building around the block, the top from which I could see the Astrodome, was still with me. I loved that damned building with it’s magical light-up scoreboard with fireworks displays, eventually removed for more seats; yet another sad change from my childhood. Some of the quirky apartment homes in the neighborhood that I loved remain, but many have been torn down and converted to townhomes. How times have changed…how many 4 and 5 year-olds ride their bikes without supervision in the busy streets of Houston today? 
Of the quirky apartment buildings still stands a block away.
So if you find yourself in building 3 of K-L looking at wine glasses, this is where a very young Penguin would attempt to make himself appear hot at night so Mom would turn on my air conditioner, allowing me to sleep better. (To this day, I still sleep with a fan at night.) Take care of my apartment Kuhl-Linscomb. I want to come back and visit again. The old apartment has changed. But so have I…and Mom, too. Just like that home to a single mother struggling to make ends meet and raise her son, now a quaint shop of high-end home décor, we’ve come a long way and are doing much better for ourselves. And don’t worry about Santa, he’s gotten in just fine before!
Where this pickup is parked used to be a large bush under which I would play with Yvette and Dallas.